Nigel Must Be The Beelzebub.

When you have a prima donna biatch of a cat with a dudes name, it makes you think..my life must be pretty good. Currently, Nigel the cat has so many disgusting mats in her fur that when you pet her it feels like your stroking a moldy bag of brocolli. A problem relatively easy to fix but I’m just over here, painting a picture.

They say a cat has nine lives. Some times I wish Nigel only had two because even then she’d still be alive and thriving. I swear..making eye contact with her is the equivalent of being told you don’t qualify for the food bank. That look of utter contempt dissalowing you the most basic of rights makes one want to open an artery. This is the feline I live with.

Back to her coat. Her kitty jacket. Her fuzz compound. Her body pubes. Around this time last year, she ran into the same problem: matted fur. Typically she has a beautiful, well maintained coat but I guess at some point it gets away from the lil knucklehead and it turns to a lumpy blanket of grotesquity.

The shearing is not her most glorious 40 minutes. Because of my contempt for the 4 legged sock puppet, you would think I get some morbid pleasure out of watching her scramble for cover. Looking at me, pleading “Meow, meeeooow, mew!” (Roughly translated as “End this brutality now or I will piss on everything that you own”). I do have a heart and am definitely in a post-stress buzz state when the job is complete.

But here I am getting all mushy about this pussy cat. You know, the ball of fluff that won’t let you pick her up. The 82% hair doll that won’t sit on your lap and only comes to you when food is on the line. She’ll drive you to the nut house literally, in her little kitty cat car, if it best suits her.

Then I look over and she’s playing with a little toy, practically doing backflips and bringing sheer joy to all her viewers. Then she’s in a box, like a tiny kitten, exploring and being freakin adorbs. Or she’s one big ball of bush, dead to the world in a deep sleep, with her little white socks twitching in the sunlight.

I can’t kill her. Fact. But can I keep her? Definitely. Ever have a pet with similar attributes, past or present? Feel free to comment, always!

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